I Feel Cleaner After The Rain
by LordB
Summary: It's odd how the weather can reflect a person's mood. Set right after volume 10, Numata discusses his family with the always sympathetic Yata and Kereellis.


It's been a while, hasn't it? Anyway, this is set between volumes 10 and 11, so yeah. Sorry for spoilers up to 10.

* * *

I Feel Cleaner After the Rain

Numata could honestly say he never thought he'd see Karatsu drink himself under the table like this. Out of the two of them, Karatsu was certainly the most sensible when it came to drinking (okay, so he could probably be considered more sensible in whatever they did), but here he was, snoring softly with his head resting on the coffee table. Yata didn't hold his alcohol as well as the other two, and as a result drank only a little, mostly to appease Kereellis. This left Numata with Yata and his little felt friend who was definitely not his idea of a good drinking buddy.

Numata shoved Karatsu gently with his foot and was answered with a grunt, a wave of the hand, but no real sign of waking up.

"It's strange for him to do that," Yata said from the couch. He reached forward to pick up a half-empty can of beer before it got knocked over by more drunken hand waving. Numata sighed and sat down next to his smaller friend, relieving him of the beer.

"I don't see what his problem is. Coming in here complaining about the fact that two hot girls want him and drinking himself into a stupor! … Inconsiderate, that is," Numata took a gulp from the can.

"**Our intentions were pure**," Kereellis said, mouth flapping like Pac-Man.

Yata nodded in agreement. "You seemed kind of… depressed. We only wanted to cheer you up," he stated. He rested his right elbow on the arm of the couch, and then his chin in his hand.

Numata leant back and removed his sunglasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose where they had been pinching for most of the day. He sighed again.

"I know, and thanks. But this isn't something that I can drink away."

"**The alcoholic in you says otherwise.**"

Numata could almost see the grin on the puppet's face, but didn't even bother responding in his usual way. The comment hadn't seemed as malicious as they normally were and it occurred to him that perhaps the puppet was trying to be sympathetic. Even so, Yata shifted slightly so he could push his puppet-covered left hand underneath his thigh. He lifted his head from his hand and looked at Numata.

"If you want to talk about it I'd listen. That might help. And I wouldn't make fun of you or anything." He sounded sincere enough, but Numata bit the inside of his lip, not sure what to say back to him.

"Have you been drinking tonight?" He asked, staring at the ceiling. He heard Yata's clothes rustling as he shifted again.

"Not much," the younger man answered. "Why?"

"Just wondering. I mean, I don't think I've ever seen you properly drunk, even though Kereellis is always encouraging it."

"Numata…"

"What?"

"You heard what I said, didn't you?"

Numata closed his eyes and nodded.

He really didn't want to go into it with his friends.

He didn't even like discussing it with his grandma.

* * *

_Earlier that evening_

He was soaked when he got home, and the rain didn't seem to be showing any chance of letting up. Odd how the weather could reflect a person's mood, wasn't it? Grey skies; pouring rain; no hope of the sun coming out anytime soon.

Shit weather. Shit mood.

Numata kicked off his boots at the door, threw his jacket somewhere on the floor and trailed water into the main room. He collapsed onto his small couch, one leg thrown over the arm. Rain had beaded on his sunglasses, creating little spheres that reflected the ceiling as if seen through a fisheye lens. He briefly considered wiping them off, but decided that required too much effort.

Right now, he couldn't even be bothered to cry.

His eyes closed.

…

His pocket buzzed

Numata jerked awake and almost fell off the couch. His clothes were halfway on their way to being dry and felt uncomfortably warm and sticky. Outside the sky was dark, suggesting he'd been asleep for some time, even though it had only felt like a few minutes.

His pocket was still buzzing and Numata remembered that his phone was in there. He fished it out and looked at the name on the screen; Karatsu. He allowed the phone to ring a few more times before he decided to answer.

"What is it?" He growled.

Karatsu wasn't fazed by the obvious hostility. He was used to it by now.

"We're coming over and we're bringing alcohol," Karatsu informed his irritated friend.

"What?"

"See you in about…" There was a pause as Karatsu discussed something with someone Numata assumed to be Yata, "half an hour."

And he hung up.

* * *

Currently, Karatsu was curled up on the bathroom floor, having been dragged there by his friends after he had woken up, and then started complaining about feeling sick. Numata perched on the edge of the bath wondering if the entire purpose of this evening had been for Karatsu to get drunk and pass out, causing a lot of inconvenience. Yata was right; it _was_ strange for him to do this. Perhaps there was a bit more to it than 'oh no! I can't choose between the two gorgeous women that are practically throwing themselves at me!' But Numata had his own problems right now. He didn't want to think about other people. At this exact moment in time, he wanted to be completely selfish and worry about _his_ troubles. It seemed fair. It wasn't like he burdened his friends with things like this all that often, even when they offered to be burdened.

Yata appeared in the doorway with a cushion and a blanket. Numata watched him push the cushion under Karatsu's head and drape the blanket over his sleeping form. He'd been acting pretty maternal tonight, Numata thought with a smile. Well, maybe more responsible than maternal, but mothers were meant to be responsible, weren't they? He wasn't sure. His grandma definitely was, and she'd been a mother once.

Ugh, he was thinking too much and it wasn't really making a lot of sense.

He followed Yata back to the couch in silence. They both sat down and found themselves staring at the ceiling again. The quiet was becoming a bit awkward.

"Think Tenko-chan's still up there? You know, in, uh, spirit?" Numata wondered aloud, not really wanting to think about it but still preferring idle chatter to nothing.

"I thought you were scared of ghosts," Yata said, not taking his eyes from a spider that was making its way slowly back to its web.

"Don't call her a gh- um, that…"

Yata chuckled and Numata looked at him, studying his profile.

"You meant it, didn't you?"

Yata turned his head toward Numata, his eyes just visible through his fringe of dark hair.

"Meant what?" he asked.

"That you'd listen," Numata muttered looking down to avoid eye contact. He noticed that Kereellis was on the coffee table, and that Yata didn't seem to be able to keep his left hand still. His fingers drummed against his thigh, and when the drumming stopped he would clench and unclench his fist a few times before he started tapping again. When Numata spoke his fingers went still for a moment before rolling a crease in his jeans between his thumb and forefinger.

"Of course I did."

* * *

_That afternoon_

The rain was endless.

Every now and then someone would run into or out of the entrance to the block of up-market apartments, but no one gave Numata more than a quick glance from underneath an umbrella as he sat with his head bowed, his arms on his parted knees and his back against the wall. He had never felt more insignificant in his life. He had never felt more… _alone_, as clichéd as that was. Perhaps he should move now. Get away from this place. He could go visit his grandparents; he hadn't done that in a while.

Tell them the good news.

He laughed aloud even as he thought it, startling a mother with a pram as she rushed to get her child back inside.

Good news… Right. And then what would they do? Sit around the table, he and his granddad with a can of beer each while his grandmother sobbed into her hands?

Fuck, he could do that himself. He didn't need to bother his grandparents with this. It'd just depress them, and the last thing he wanted was a depressed grandma on his hands. That would just upset him even more.

He felt eyes prickle with unshed tears and blinked a few times. Not here. He didn't want his brother to see him cry. Or his parents. He was sure they felt bad enough already, what with being dead and all.

He placed a hand on the ground next to him. Would Karatsu be able to feel them here? Would he be able to talk to them? Probably not, he vaguely remembered Karatsu saying that spirits didn't last long in their bodies. He wouldn't be able to get to them either- not without a pneumatic drill to get through all the concrete. He thought about Yata and that puppet of his. They wouldn't be any help either, not unless he wanted to give them some kind of Jedi funeral. In fact, what _did _they do? They didn't have anything to offer the Corpse Delivery Service, so why did they even bother to stick around? It seemed their only purpose was to piss him off and occasionally help out with the normal deliveries.

Numata's jaw clenched. It was annoying but at least it took his mind off things for a second. At least until he realised just how wet and numb he was. He stood, stretched, felt his back click into place and took a few steps forward. Then he stopped and looked over his shoulder.

Just a few metres beneath where he had been sitting were the bodies of his mother, father and brother, their grave marker a huge block of apartments. He had no way to get them back, no way to give them a proper funeral; no way to _talk_ to them, to tell them how much his grandma and granddad missed them.

No way to tell them how much he had wanted them to have been there to see him grow up.

His eyes prickled again. He was way too tired to try and stop them this time. Numata allowed the tears to fall freely down his face.

* * *

They were still just sitting there. Numata thought he should probably get it over with; ending the silence, but Yata seemed content to sit and wait until he was comfortable.

He had to admit that Yata sans Kereellis was a nice change. He could be as reticent as he liked, and not have an obnoxious puppet telling him he was being melodramatic or something like that. To be honest, it wasn't that he didn't want to speak; it was more that he had no idea what to say. He knew he wasn't particularly good with words. He was a man, he preferred to take action!

That sounded stupid, even in his head.

He glanced at Yata. He was still watching that spider while he involuntarily played with the cuff of his shirt. Numata wondered why his left hand couldn't seem to stay put even though his right hand was perfectly still.

He should say something. Not about the hand thing, about the other thing. The reason he was sitting here in the most uncomfortable silence he'd ever sat in in his life. Maybe the lack of Kereellis _wasn't_ such a good thing. You could say what you liked about the puppet, but at least he knew how to fill the silence.

Numata cleared his throat making Yata jump and turn to look at him.

"You okay?" Yata asked.

"Uh, yeah, I'm- I'm fine. Sorry about this, it's just…" Numata paused.

"Don't worry about it."

Numata scratched his nose.

"Um, well… I wasn't being completely honest when I said that I learnt dowsing to find, ah, pirate treasure…" He trailed off nervously, eyes flicking towards his friend. He paused again.

"I had kind of guessed that," Yata said softly. "You'd have been able to find something _other_ than corpses if that were true."

Numata let out a laugh. "Heh, maybe I should have asked to learn that instead. I could have started up a finder's business. Like in 'Get Backers' or like that guy who said he found wallets and jewellery and stuff."

"Numata."

"Right, um, dowsing. Well, I met Master Azuma the same way I said I had. It's just that I had a different reason for wanting to learn it. Aaah, I'm going round in circles, aren't I?"

"Shit.

"I think I was about three or four when it happened, so it's not like I remember it all too well. I was staying with my grandparents for some reason and my parents never came to pick me up. It's not like they abandoned me or anything, 'cause my grandma said they were perfectly happy with their life. You know, two parents, two kids, nothing out of the ordinary, they just… _disappeared_.

"Like I said, I don't really remember. I don't remember _them_; my parents or my brother. The worst thing about it was having to see my grandparents trying to accept that their son, his wife and their other grandson had just gone. No explanation. No trace of them whatsoever. I don't think they've ever fully accepted it. Not really."

Numata stopped talking for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. He wasn't sure he could really explain how it felt. He hadn't _known_ his parents or brother, so how could he really have a proper emotional attachment to them? But his grandparents… They were the ones who were truly torn apart by this. And he hated seeing them like that. They meant everything to him. They had raised him like he was their kid, after all. Even though the other children had laughed when his grandma had come to parents' day, he hadn't cared. He was bigger than them and they knew never to mess with him properly. All things considered, he'd had a pretty good life.

Yeah, it hurt to think he would never know his mum or his dad or his brother, but it hurt more to see his grandma's face on the morning of the, well, the anniversary of his family's disappearance. It hurt to see his granddad having to make breakfast because grandma couldn't stop her hands from shaking, and when he saw granddad hold her hand to try and calm her down was when he would feel his own hands begin to shake and he had to blink back the tears.

Eloquence certainly wasn't his strongest point, however, and he had no idea how to say all this to Yata without sounding like a complete idiot.

He looked at Yata again. His friend's eye was visible through a gap in his fringe and it was watching him, his face carefully blank but Numata could almost feel his friend willing him to carry on. He leant forward and carried on, speaking to the floor.

"When Master Azuma died… Karatsu found a letter in his pocket addressed to me. He- he knew all along. The bastard knew all along!" His teeth gritted and tears were now running down his cheeks. His fists were clenched on his knees. Yata remained quiet, but his twitching hand found Numata's shaking shoulder and squeezed gently. Numata sat up, wiping his eyes and Yata quickly drew his hand away.

"When I first met him on that construction site and started learning how to do it, he asked me _why_ I wanted to know dowsing. So I told him. I told him I wanted to find my family. I thought if I find them, even if they were dead, it might make my grandparents… happier. I mean, at least they'd _know_ where they were. And, and they could have a proper funeral and everything." He paused and took a breath.

"I thought I'd never find them. I don't think Master Azuma thought I would either, so he had a go himself. And you know what. He found them.

"He found them on that fucking building site! Only he never told anyone 'cause it would halt construction, or some shit like that.

"Fuck!

"Y-you'd think he'd at least have _told_ me before he left, wouldn't you? But no, he waited almost twenty-fucking-years!"

He could feel his face burning with anger now, and he knew he should probably try and keep his voice down- it was late, after all. But he couldn't. And he couldn't control the shaking or the tears or the feeling of betrayal that was churning his stomach and making him want to throw up.

Beside him he heard Yata gulp.

"I-if you could… would you like to see them one last time?" Yata asked softly. Numata glared at him through teary eyes and with grinding teeth.

"Of course I would. What kind of a stupid question is that?"

He noticed Yata's cheeks darken slightly.

"Um… I've only seen it once before, but I think- I think Kereellis might be able to do something."

His eyes stared out, firm and unblinking, from beneath his fringe. Numata could tell that he wasn't confidant about this, but he was definitely trying to be.

"What do you mean?" Numata asked, wiping at his nose with his wrist. He watched as Yata leant forward to retrieve the puppet from his glass covered coffee table. He pulled the little felt creation over his left-hand and Kereellis shuddered into life.

"Did you hear what he was saying?" Yata asked the puppet.

"**You can take away my mouth but you will never take away my ears!**"

"Think you can do it?"

"**Probably, ****but the connection will be better closer to the… ****To his family.**"

Yata glanced up from the puppet to Numata's face, he red was fading from his cheeks and the anger was slowly being replaced by confusion.

"Would it be alright for us to go there?" Yata inquired gently.

Numata nodded slowly.

It had been a strange evening. None of them had really been acting themselves; he had broken down and told Yata everything, Karatsu had drunk himself unconscious, Kereellis was attempting to be nice to Numata and Yata was trying to be useful.

Before he knew it pigs would be flying and chickens would be running the country.

* * *

It was raining again.

Why did it always rain when he was here? It was like there was some kind of cruel god that tuned the weather into his emotions. Numata was getting angry thinking about it, and now that he was getting angry he expected there to be thunder and lightning as well.

There wasn't.

Numata looked around. Not that there was much to see. Just apartment blocks rising high above him and concrete. So much concrete. All of it covered with a thin sheen of water and bathed in the orange light of the street lamps. Puddles had formed where the concrete wasn't completely even and he watched as more drops fell into them, creating mini fountains where each of them landed. He turned to Yata, who was standing there looking awkward and shivering from the feel of the cool breeze on his wet skin. He pushed his soaked hair from his face.

"So what's all this about?" Numata asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

Yata allowed Kereellis to answer.

"**I'm sure the detail would be lost on you, ****but basically we're going to try and access the Akashic Records to see if we can see your family.**"

Numata blinked.

"I'm sorry… what?"

"The Akashic Records... They're like, the records of all the knowledge in the universe. I'm not entirely sure how it works," Yata admitted.

"**Well,****you're only human. ****It's not like we can expect your pathetic,****under-developed brains to be able to fully comprehend the scale of the Records. ****Now make a circuit and concentrate.**"

Numata frowned.

"A circuit? What are you, an electrician?"

"He means we need to hold hands," Yata said, reaching out to take Numata's hand in his. Numata quickly pulled it out of his reach.

"Are sure about this?" He asked incredulously, glancing down at Yata's outstretched hand and then up again to his face.

"Well… yeah. We've done this before. Makino, a little girl and I," Yata said. Numata let his hand go slack and the younger man took it.

"Really?"

"Yeah, we summoned the girl's goldfish."

Numata jerked his hand out of Yata's.

"This is ridiculous! Come on, we're going back."

"Numata, wait! **I summoned Makino's mother as well**. That was on purpose? **Of course it was**!"

Numata froze and looked back at Yata, while he argued with his hand.

"Makino's mother?" He said. "So you really can do it?"

Yata nodded, blinking through the rain at him. Numata turned and made his way back towards him. He took Yata's hand.

"Right, so how do we do this?" Numata asked, looking to the puppet for advice.

"**Just concentrate. ****The Akashic Records are on another plane of existence, ****but it's a plane that can be found within every living thing in the universe. ****It's just that there aren't many who can access it.**"

"I didn't understand a word of that," Numata stated, wondering whether he should close his eyes for good measure. He noticed that Yata had, so he did the same. His allowed his breathing to become long and deep, almost like he was sleeping, and concentrated, though he wasn't sure what on. He tried to let his mind go blank. Think about nothing, but he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that he was holding another man's hand. Right. He'd try a different approach then.

He focused on what was connecting him and Yata; their hands, and what they were trying to do. He wanted to see his mum and dad and brother. He wanted it more than anything. Without realising his grip on Yata's hand tightened. And then he felt it.

It was the same sensation he'd felt when swimming in the sea. The feeling of the waves moving his body up and down and to the side, even after leaving the water he could still feel the waves rippling through his body.

Yeah. Exactly like that. But it began in their linked hands and pulsated out, like the ripples made when a stone was thrown into a pool of still water. He felt each wave collide with his body and suddenly he was weightless. He could feel nothing but the waves, the raindrops and Yata's hand in his.

He opened his eyes. It was dark. He wondered if the streetlights had gone out, because now he couldn't even the apartment blocks around him. He turned his head to see if he could make out Yata and was shocked to discover that he could see him as clearly as before. His cheeks were tinged with pink and his breathing was deep. His eyes were dark and glassy and stared straight forward. Numata followed his gaze.

The rain was bright and he could see the puddles clearly even though they seemed to be floating in the middle of nothing. They looked like black glass; still, even though rain was still falling around them. Then he noticed the water ripple in one while another puddle splashed as though a child had just jumped into it.

Numata swallowed.

He could see them. They were reflected in the puddles. He looked up to see if they were there above the puddles as well.

He could see their outlines, marked by the rain falling onto their bodies. Slowly they began solidify, colour spreading out like a drop of ink in a glass of water. And there they were, slightly faded against the black background but definitely there. His brother grinned and waved while his father took his mother's hand and squeezed it as she seemed to cry tears of happiness. His father looked at him. He gave a soft smile.

And they were gone.

They were back by the block of apartments, surrounded by wet concrete, though the rain had now started to clear up.

His hand slipped away from Yata's and they stood in silence for a moment. Finally Numata looked at his friend and the puppet.

"They didn't say anything," he said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

"I'm not sure they can," Yata replied, trying to sound as comforting as he could.

"**Perhaps Karatsu would be able to. ****If I can bring the spirits back, ****then maybe…**"

"No," Numata said with a small, sad smile. "They looked… alright. At least they're together, you know."

He turned to leave and Yata followed. Numata pushed his sunglasses up to the bridge of his nose.

"I sat here earlier today," he began, glancing sideways at Yata, "thinking about how useless you were." He watched the smaller man's face fall. "I thought you'd only be useful in conducting some kind of Jedi funeral."

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Yata's shoulders slump somewhat.

"But what you did just now," he continued, "what you did back there… That was pretty damn amazing."

He grinned back at his surprised friend.

"Sorry I ever doubted you."

A smile brightened Yata's face and they carried on walking for a while before Yata asked:

"A Jedi funeral?"

Numata nodded. "Well, something like the one Luke gave Darth Vader. 'Cause you're kind of obsessed with Star Wars."

Yata tittered and shrugged his shoulders.

"But we're Buddhists," he said with a small smile.

"**You're both idiots,**" Kereellis interjected. "**We all know that the only true religion is the Cult of Zgwortz. It really is a shame that the Cult only allows Type 3 Civilizations to join. I just hope that you're both somewhere else when they come to rid your solar system of its impurities**."

end

* * *

I'm all alone  
I smoke my friends down to the filter  
But I feel much cleaner  
After it rains

The lyrics that inspired the title. Tom Waits' _A Little Drop of Poison_. I had absolutely nothing, so I did what I always do in these situations; listen to music. Heh, I'm terrible at coming up with titles.

I also felt that the first line to _More Than Rain_ was appropriate: It's more than rain that falls on our parade tonight.


End file.
